When We Were Young
by littlerosewrites
Summary: Most years, someone would volunteer as a Career tribute. And quite often, a girl would volunteer. And as for training under Finnick Odair, Annie had no desire; under no circumstances would Annie risk her life just to train with such an arrogant boy only to have herself killed in the Games. But now, Annie didn't have a choice.
1. You Have Me

Hands. Hands were all Annie had felt since the reaping, hands on her collar, hands pushing her from behind, hands steering her where she had to go, hands forcing her forward when all she wanted was to go back. And they weren't warm hands either, they weren't warm or comforting or even human; they were glossy armored hands, gloved hands, the hands of peacekeepers.

This was District Four. Wasn't it supposed to be something along the lines of the Capitol's great-great-great-great grandchild? Either way, Annie supposed, she wasn't a Career, and nothing she could do would make them treat her like one. Like a true warrior. Like a hero, a martyr.

And perhaps she should have been a Career. Perhaps it's what her parents would have wanted. Annie could never tell for sure. Every year, they'd tell her, "No matter what happens, Annie, we'll love you. No matter what. Even if you want to go!" Annie always felt like they pushed the idea just a bit. Like if she went, it would make them proud. But Annie didn't think she had it in her to volunteer.

But now, it seemed she never had to.

She always used excuses to ease the minds of her parents, even to ease the mind of herself. Most years, someone would volunteer as a Career tribute. And quite often, a girl would volunteer. Who wouldn't want the chance to claim mortal victory, to bring honor to her family, and especially, to train under Finnick Odair? Annie always told herself, always told her family that someone, some girl always beat her to it.

It was just that this year, no girl came to her rescue.

And as for training under Finnick Odair, Annie had no desire. She'd only ever really seen him, and most of the time, it was from a distance; he was a celebrity by the time he was fourteen, and after that, he was in and out of the District regularly, making trips to the Capitol. He was cute- handsome, even. That much was for sure. But under no circumstances would Annie risk her life just to train with such an arrogant boy only to have herself killed in the Games.

But now, Annie didn't have a choice.

Annie loaded the train with one peacekeeper hand on her shoulder and another on the small of her back. She didn't know if it was just protocol or if they really thought she'd try to escape. They'd be stupid to think that; where did she have to go? She'd be shot down in an instant. Annie was a lot of things; stupid wasn't one of them. Complex, quiet, mysterious? Yes. Foolish? Suicidal? Hardly.

Annie's Capitol Escort was cheerful and kind, but not exactly as talkative as Annie expected him to be. He had a sort of arrogant air to him, which Annie supposed was only to be expected of a Capitol Escort. As soon as they'd boarded the train, Annie announced that she was tired and just wanted to go to bed. Sure, it was early afternoon, but the girl thought she deserved some rest while she could still get it. She urged her male counterpart to do the same. He was younger than Annie was, only thirteen years old. And he on the other hand, had volunteered. Annie supposed he wanted to be like Finnick. Every boy in District Four did. But her male tribute was kind, far too kind. Annie didn't believe for one second that he had it in him to be as arrogant as Finnick.

Without a word to her Escort but with a sad hug to her male tribute, Annie found her quarters and crumbled into bed. The thoughts of the Games, the realization that she could die within a matter of days...well, they had been present all day, but Annie had found herself pushing them back. Breathe...just breathe, she told herself with each hour that passed, with each family member she had to bid farewell...probably for ever.

But as she felt the train rumble to life and heard the wheels begin to turn, Annie felt a twinge of sickness begin to form in the pit of her stomach, quickly overtaking her entire body. She was leaving her District...no. She was being taken from her District. From her home. From her family.

I am going to die, I am going to die, I am going to die. I am going to die in a week. She thought.

The tears fell. They fell like rain, they flowed like the waves that crashed onto the shore of her district, like the waves she'd swam in since she was a child.

Like the ocean.

And they didn't stop. They didn't stop until she was finally, finally overtaken with sleep.

The next morning, Annie woke with a start. Her District partner, Sam, knocked on the door, and only then did Annie notice the sunlight streaming through the window of her quarters.

"A-Annie, I'm sorry, I didn't want to wake you. But...he couldn't let you sleep any longer; you missed breakfast. You need to get up and eat something."

Annie ran a hand down her face, letting her eyes droop. Begrudgingly, she swung her legs over the side of her bed, making her way to the wash room. In five minutes time, she emerged from her room, having pulled a simple, drop-waist white dress from her closet. Sliding open the door to the dining car, however, who she saw wasn't what she expected.

Annie let out a small gasp, pressing her back against the car door, her eyes going wide.

Finnick Odair sat alone at the round dining table; she'd recognize that face anywhere. She'd seen it a hundred times on the television, but only a fair few in person. He stopped mid-motion when Annie entered the car, pausing with an open mouth and a pastry inches from his lips.

For a moment, they were both silent.

And then, he took a bite.

"Look who's up." He said, his mouth full, the corners of his lips dusted white with powdered sugar. "Did you sleep well, princess?"

"It's you." She muttered, placing her hands behind the small of her back and looking down at her bare feet.

"Who'd you expect? Didn't think the youngest Victor to ever win the Hunger Games was fit enough to mentor you?"

"No, I'd heard you'd be my mentor. I just thought that...maybe you were a myth or something."

Annie looked up, meeting his eyes. He stared at her quizzically for a moment, his lips parted slightly, his brow furrowed.

And then, the corner of his lips twitched into a smirk. "You know, I was starting to worry about you. You'd been sleeping the day away; your Escort suspected you were...depressed or something. I dunno." He said, standing up from his chair and striding back over to the buffet table.

"Well, I'm not exactly thrilled to be here." She retorted. "We're not all Careers; we're not all like you."

Finnick lifted his eyes from the plates of pastries and set them on Annie instead. "Help yourself." He said. "You need to eat."

With a sigh, Annie joined him at the buffet counter, not taking a moment to admire the decorations of the food; that sort of simple luxury was something she was used to in District Four. But she did need to eat; Finnick was right about that. For now, there was nothing more she could do than try to take care of herself. She grabbed a roll and some eggs, sprinkling some salt and pepper on top before making her way to the table. She set down her plate and stepped in front of the chair, looking behind herself to pull it in from under her, but Finnick had already beaten her to it. Her breath hitched in her throat as she caught a glimpse of him behind her and she quickly turned away from him, already awkwardly hunched over. Clearing her throat, she sat down slowly as Finnick pushed in her chair. Annie smoothed down her skirt and picked up her fork, keeping her eyes on her plate and away from him.

"Did you send Sam to come wake me?"

"Who else was gonna do it?" He asked, tossing a bread roll up into the air, only to catch it and take a bite. He took a seat next to her, eyeing her for a moment before bringing a glass of mimosa to his lips. "He seems like a nice kid, Alma, but he clearly doesn't understand the importance of learning and training."

"It's Annie." She murmured, raising her gaze from her plate to Finnick's frustratingly nonchalant expression as he sipped from his drink.

"What I'm saying is, you guys can't let each other sleep the days away. And in the Capitol, you'll have training, so that's not gonna happen. But even here, now, you need to be focused. Every minute you're on this goddamn thing, you've gotta be doin' something. It's a long ride east, Christian, and you ain't got a minute to lose."

"Cresta." She corrected in disbelief.

"We'll arrive at the Capitol later tonight, but we're gonna be a day ahead of some of the other Districts. That means you have an extra day in the Capitol. Do not underestimate the importance of that." He said, popping a sugarcube from a small, glass dish into his mouth, sitting back into his chair with a smirk.

"I didn't say anything." Annie replied, feeling a bit as if she was being scolded.

"Oh, of course. How rude of me. Sugarcube?" He offered, sticking his fingers back into the bowl and holding one out to her. It was hers for the taking.

"No. So, what exactly can I do on the train? I mean, we won't be at the Capitol for...what, five, six more hours?"

"You can talk to me, sweetheart." Oh, joy. "How else are you supposed to learn how I won the Games?"

"And that's what I'm supposed to be learning here? How you won the games?" Her tone wasn't exactly pointed, and her eyes weren't cold; they were wide and not unkind. But her inquiry was clear; she was becoming less and less impressed by his attitude by the minute. Annie was going to die, and Finnick didn't even seem to want to be bothered with the girl's name.

"How else do you think you're gonna survive them?" He asked, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. He was clearly awaiting her answer, but there was something in his eyes, in the shadow of a smirk that rested on his frustratingly pretty countenance. Her fear was amusing him. What the hell was wrong with this guy?

"I'm not." Annie answered simply, leaning back in her chair in defeat.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not. I'm not Finnick Odair. I'm not a Career. I'm not a Volunteer. I don't know how to use a trident, I don't know how to be a dazzling Capitol darling, and I sure as hell don't know the first thing about survival. I'm a swimmer. Not a warrior. Don't you get it?" Annie scoffed, shaking her head as she looked at him in absolute disbelief from across the table. She lifted her hands only to slap them back into her lap in frustration before getting up from the table all together. "Is this a joke to you?" She asked, turning back around before she could even take two steps away from him. "Do you think I'm just going to follow right in your heroic footprints and become a winner, or do you just not care that I'm going to die out there? I mean, you didn't even take the time to learn my name; you can't be all that invested in my training."

Finnick stood, holding out a hand. "Hey-"

"Oh, come on, don't hey me. Stop patronizing me, Finnick! I have no chance. But that doesn't matter to you, as long as you get to go to the Capitol and see all your rich and famous friends and go to a party and have a drink and parade me around as your little prize and shake your head in disappointment when I die." Annie retorted, her voice growing louder and louder with each passing moment. She felt her hands curl up into tense fists at the sides of her pretty little dress, her cheeks blushing with fear and loathing.

"Annie-"

"Just stop!" She cried, letting out a frustrated and bitter laugh, bringing a hand to her forehead. It was hot. She was sweating. "My name is Annie Cresta, I'm a swimmer, and I do not know how to fight. I do not know how to survive. And I don't want to do this, I can't do this, I never thought I'd have to." Finnick was moving closer, his hands stretched outwards, seemingly trying to calm her. But the girl didn't notice. She could practically see her very life flashing before her eyes. "I'm not a Volunteer, I'm not like those other girls, but you treat me like...like I'm a goddamn toy, but you're going to make me look pretty and make me look like a good little girl but really, you're gonna throw me out into that arena, and you're going to be handing me over to the DEVIL-"

"ANNIE!"

She stopped mid-sentence, tears in her eyes, staring at Finnick with a naive hope that he could do something. That he could hide her away. That he could keep her out of the Capitol. She wasn't like him. She didn't have a chance at survival.

"You're a swimmer." He said softly, looking at her with a big grin on his face. As if his words held the secret to the Games.

And Annie stared right back. Dumbfounded.

"I'm...what?" She asked, exasperated.

"You're a swimmer, Annie. You do know how to survive."

"I'm a swimmer, so what?"

"Strong lungs, strong legs, ability to hold your breath, tread water. You're from the coast, so you're familiar with field and swamp plants. Don't underestimate yourself." He took another step forward, one more step, and he was right in front of her. His firm hands gently took hold of her forearms, forcing her to look at him. To hear him out. "You can do this."

"I can't. Everyone else is going to know how to fight. I can't fight anyone. I can't kill anyone."

"You don't have to think about that right now-"

"How can I not think about it, Finnick?"

"You need to stay calm. Otherwise, you're gonna think you're in over your head-"

"Am I not?"

"No."

"Why's that?"

Finnick grinned, reaching out and brushing away a tear from the redhead's cheek. "Because you have me."

Annie gulped. He was staring straight down at her, and now, his eyes were gentle. She didn't move, and he didn't move... why wasn't he moving? Did he always stare at girls like this? Did they feel as small as she felt standing next to him? Their chests were nearly touching. Any other girl from Panem would kill to be in Annie's position at that very moment. But all Annie could think was how wonderful it would be if he took her home...

"You're surprisingly full of yourself." She asked, her throat dry and hoarse from yelling at him. "'Confident,' 'bold', 'courageous'... those are the words I usually hear describe you."

"So you've heard plenty about me then?" He asked with a smile.

Annie sighed. "You're a bit repulsive, Finnick Odair."

"As are you, Annie Cresta. I'm not gonna lie. But...I am going to keep you alive. That's a promise."

"Why?" She asked, her brow twitching in confusion.

Finnick opened his mouth to speak, only to close it after a few moments. He stared deep into her eyes, and for a moment, Annie thought...and it would been wrong, and repulsive, and inappropriate, but for a moment, she thought he was going to...

Without a flinch, Finnick turned away, heading back to the table. "Get something to eat. Get your strength up." Whipping around to face her, he had a cheerful, adventurous grin on his face. "You train with me now. You're gonna need it."


	2. Anything For The Cause

Annie wasn't an idiot, not in the slightest. She knew, in terms of qualities and abilities, where she was lacking. And where she wasn't lacking...well, Finnick seemed to be reminding her, at least. Which was surprising, given Annie's previous opinion of him. Given her current opinion of him, really.

That said, Annie knew she'd have to work harder, sweat harder, feel sicker, be more frightened than she ever had in her life if she wanted to win. If she wanted to live. But it wasn't that easy. If she wanted to live, she had to be willing to potentially kill 23 other competitors. And for such a goodhearted girl like Annie, like any average person, it was hard to find the will to live if it meant killing 23 other people. Children. People like her.

And that was where Finnick came in.

"Get your strength up." He'd told her. "You're gonna need it." He was beaming with confidence...or at least, that was the side of him that he'd let Annie see. Finally, when Annie responded with a complacent albeit somber nod, Finnick couldn't help but gaze at her. Hell, she was so damn sad. He had to stop and wonder if she was always like this, or if it was the idea of the Games taking her life out of her body.

The answer was no- she wasn't always like that.

But perhaps Finnick would never even truly figure that out. Perhaps he'd never have a chance to know.

The Victor cleared his throat, mentally shaking away the strange thoughts floating around his mind.

"I'm going back to my car." He said, tugging on the bottoms of his business casual suit jacket to straighten it out, mentally trying to straighten himself out; he looked at her, and somehow she seemed to fill a part of him that he hadn't known was empty.

Which was ridiculous, really.

Stupid.

For many reasons.

One of which was because besides working as a Victor and a Mentor, Finnick had another profession in the Capitol, one that certainly didn't involve Annie. One that couldn't.

"I want you to eat. And then shower. Wash your hair and start detangling while you can. Or else once you're with your stylists, it's gonna feel like you're getting scalped. I'll be back shortly, Annie." He said. And with that, Finnick turned on his heel and was gone.

Annie stared straight forward. She didn't move, staying put in her chair, refraining from watching Finnick leave the compartment. She let out a breath when she heard the car door shut behind him, but her eyes stayed wide. Unmoving. Unfocussed.

She was here. And there was nothing she could do about it. And Annie didn't want to die. But even so, perhaps even more, Annie didn't want to kill. And if she had to kill to win, was winning really worth it? Was surviving really worth it?

She was sweet. Maybe too sweet. And Finnick knew that. Images of her kind little face, her delicate, small hands, hands that couldn't hurt a fly...they bounced off of the walls of his skull as he marched to the office in his compartment. As he sat down in his chair, he let out a long sigh, turning to an Avox that stood awaiting his orders.

"Get me the phone." Finnick requested. "And put Snow on the line."

Normally, Victors, even the most beloved, couldn't simply ring Snow whenever they pleased, even if they were his precious puppets.

But Finnick was so much more than his puppet.

Finnick was his fucking prince.

And yet with the receiver held to his ear as he waited for Snow to answer, he felt nervous. But calling Snow certainly wasn't out of character for Finnick, not when he needed something. He was on the President's good side, and as far as the President knew, it was vice versa for the pair.

"Mister Odair." The Victor heard the deep, hoarse, rumbling words in his ear far before he was ready. Snow made the sound of Finnick's own name horrible enough for the Victor to want to be sick in his mouth... or cough up blood Snow-style. But the Avox- Snow's Avox was watching. So Finnick grinned a big grin- a smile that was shining and dazzling and charming as if Snow could actually see him. Because Snow was always watching. "My secretary has been telling me I should be expecting a call from you, but I knew exactly who was calling before she could open her little mouth to tell me who was on the other line. I've been anticipating your return, Mister Odair, and I expect it's business as usual once again."

Finnick could practically hear the sickening smirk in Snow's words.

Business as fucking usual.

"It's always a pleasure working with you, sir."

"Is that so?" Snow asked softly.

Was this him testing Finnick? If he wanted to meddle, if he wanted to cheat, he had to stay on Snow's good side... even though the President wasn't apt to trust anyone, not even those close to him. Certainly not the high-end Capitol whore. "You've made me a rich, man, sir." All was fair in love and war for Snow. Because as far as he was concerned, he was keeping Finnick quiet and rich. Which wasn't untrue. Because as a male escort, Finnick had never charged his patrons anything other than money.

But that all changed- now.

"I want to make sure you're ready for me, sir, when I arrive. I'd never deprive the Capitol of an ultimately charming visit." Finnick told him, his voice smooth and silky like warm honey.

"I can arrange a few customers, Mister Odair."

Good, Finnick thought. The closer to the Gamemakers, the better.

"Anything for the cause, Mister President."

A click. And then a sharp ringing through the receiver. And then a painful ringing that didn't leave his ear. One that rendered him miserable. Sick. Disgusted.

He turned to the Avox, tossing the telephone lazily on the tray that the servant carried. "Take this back to...wherever the hell you got it from. And start cleaning up the dining car."

The Avox nodded, turning, leaving, and shutting the door behind him.

Finally- Finnick was alone.

He shuddered, staring forward, blind, his entire body shaking, Snow's voice a persistent memory in his head.

Since Annie had been entered into the Games, Finnick was to protect her from the fate that they brought. And if she won, he'd have to protect her from an entirely different one. But he would...he would protect her. That was his job.

One of the many.

Finnick didn't need money. Snow's customers had given him plenty of it already. He was rolling in money, and even if he wasn't, that didn't change what he needed to do now. What good was money, really? What good was money when there were...secrets? Information?

Finnick now had someone to protect. Someone he desperately wanted to protect. And he'd never wanted to protect himself before. But now he had a person. And a very, very good reason.

She wasn't a Career. She was just a girl- utterly human, utterly beautiful, and utterly...something. Something that Finnick couldn't place.

Finnick smiled a cynical, wicked smile, one that made him tremble and quiver until a tear was rolling down his cheek. Followed by another. Followed by another. And one by one they came, until all of the sound drowned from the room, replaced by an eerie silence as Finnick, furiously, stood up from his chair and with a single, swift, angry motion, swiped his arm across his desk, knocking off everything that stood upon it.

And he could hear a single thing.

A globe of Panem rolled towards the door. Finnick's eyes followed it...and then he realized it had landed at the feet of someone.

A girl.

Annie.

He was hunched over with defeat, and he looked at her, ravenous, angry, and sad, and she looked at him back. Utterly confused, but obviously willing to help.

God, why did she always have to want to help? That was going to get her killed.

"Finnick."

He straightened his back, looking off to the side, seeing all of the papers and books he'd knocked to the floor. Great. And then he looked back to her. He covered his mouth his his hand, wiping downwards on his face, feeling a slight stubble beneath his skin.

"Sorry." He said simply. "For a minute there, I mistook you for Satan."

Annie seemed to shrink a few inches. "Is this because I yelled at you?"

Finnick scoffed, his head bobbing lightly, his mind suddenly amused. And then he laughed louder, until the sound was bellowing. Until there was a shred of happiness in his voice again. "Oh, Annie. Annie, Annie, Annie."

"I'm sorry I-"

"I thought I told you to go do something." He responded.

"I didn't want to be alone."

"What, do you want me to babysit you while you shower?" He asked, taking a few sluggish steps forward. "Because that can be arranged."

Annie blushed wildly, her cheeks flushing, her eyes going wide. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He snapped in response.

"You sure about that, Cresta?" He snickered.

"You...you're...you're-"

"What? Repulsive? Handsome?"

"Well at least I know now that I'm not the only crybaby in District Four!"

Finnick narrowed his eyes. He took a step back. Annie wasn't supposed to see him like that. She never was. And now, she was supposed to forget. And if she ever found out what he was going to do...


End file.
